Finding My Place

Day Thirteen

“Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it. . . . How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven,” (Genesis 28:16-17).

This past year has been a time of finding my place.  From the time I arrived back in Milan a year ago, I started praying for, looking for, and fasting for an apartment—the very apartment that I am now sitting in.  The work on the apartment and its furnishings has gone forward very quickly after a long winter pause.  Soon I should be able to have a grand opening party.  I hope that my website will be up by then.

I sold my house in Texas (and most of the stuff in it) since I spend most of my time in Italy nowadays.  I returned to Texas in August to help my mom move to North Carolina, where my brother had relocated after the wildfire took virtually everything he owned.  Now when I return to the US, I live with my mom in a retirement complex in North Carolina.  In her apartment I have my own room, but couldn’t find a comfortable place to pray.  One day I discovered that the chapel benches are just the right height for praying on your knees.  Plus, you are assured of privacy virtually any time of the day, since the chapel is only used a few times a week.

Back here in Milan, my bed is also a good height for kneeling to pray.  But during this fast, I spend so much time in prayer that even a comfortable position eventually becomes uncomfortable.  The other day I saw an Ikea catalog, and remembered fondly my bouncy Poang easy chair.  After abdominal surgery I bounced myself to recovery in that chair.  And, well, hey!  I like to rock and bounce, it’s relaxing.  So I ordered a Poang for the apartment.  It arrived today, and all other activity stopped while Manuel and I assembled it, and Nina looked on.  Once assembled, we each took a turn sitting and bouncing in the chair.  Manuel quizzed me about the price, and decided that he had to have one, also.

One thing that a nice bouncy (or rocking) chair is good for is praying.  Back at Mom’s apartment, I have an easy chair that rocks.  It is a great place to pray when the dogs are asleep (Mom has 3) and Mom is reading or doing something else that is quiet.

This afternoon I had a prayer session in the new chair and found myself, um, “resting in the Lord.”  Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.  God is not a father that would ever push a sleeping child out of His lap.  I’m not recommending sleeping over prayer, either.  But on those occasions when sleep does overtake you, enjoy a nice nap in the Father’s arms.  I feel like I’ve truly found my place at last!  God is good!

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